


Little Earthly Habits

by HeartsFate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, light slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartsFate/pseuds/HeartsFate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One trait Dean wasn’t really counting on the angel picking up is singing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Earthly Habits

**Author's Note:**

> I may be missing tags...Please forgive any mistakes. This piece is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

The more time spent on Earth, the more Castiel seems to pick up on the little quirks of humans. It starts with mannerisms. Cas is a bit too quick to pick up on Sam’s eye roll trait, especially when Dean is concerned. When he starts picking up on Sam’s bitchface, Dean thinks its time for him to stop spending so much time with his little brother and instead teach the angel some new tricks.

Cas takes to cursing like a fish to water. 

When Castiel first uses the work fuck properly, Sam just shakes his head and reprimands him, “stop corrupting the angel.” Dean just shrugs him off, Sammy has no idea what he’s talking about. They’ve done worse. A lot worse, so a little cursing from one of God’s holiest isn’t going to hurt anyone. Hell, he’s more than a little sure Gabriel would be right there with him teaching Castiel the ropes if the archangel was still alive and well. 

The lessons only go on from there. 

One trait Dean wasn’t really counting on the angel picking up is singing. It starts like everything else. Castiel is sitting in silence as he observes the Winchester brothers. Whether its in the back seat of the Impala with the windows rolled down as Sam and Dean belt out the words to one of Dean’s many classic rock cassettes. Or safely tucked away in a motel room, as he sits perched on one of the beds listening as one of the brothers gives the showerhead an impromptu concert. It was on those occasions where Sam was singing (off-key in fact) in the shower that Dean starts to notice it. Castiel sits and listen as he mouths along to whatever song Sam has decided to butcher with his voice. Sometimes the angel is mouthing a completely different tune and at those times that Dean kind of wishes he could read lips. 

The angel only proves to be even more full of surprise, when on one hunt free day he pops into what Dean’s affectionately called the batcave with a four-month-old baby in his arms. He doesn’t answer any questions when the boys throw them his way. Simply brushing off all attempts of conversation and walks right into Dean’s bedroom, closing the door behind him. The door is locked when Dean makes an attempt to follow the angel and nothing, not even Sam’s added strength, is enough to open it. The brothers give up after a half hour and pray to God that Castiel hasn’t just stolen a baby. 

Three hours later, the wailing begins. Sam tries to coax Castiel out of the room, stating that the baby probably needs its’ mother, but he gets no answer. Dean tries, threatening the angel’s life in fifty different ways, but he doesn’t fare any better.

Twenty minutes later, Castiel finally leaves the confines of the bedroom, crying baby held protectively in his arms. 

“Dean, I require you to retrieve formula, a bottle and diapers,” Castiel stares for a moment too long before he adds a “please” in the end as an afterthought. The angel retreats back into Dean’s room before either brother can get a word in.

Dean tosses a look Sam’s way, only for him to shrug his shoulders and make a shooing motion with his hand, “Don’t look at me, he’s your angel. Just go do as he says.”

The trip to the store is quick and painless, finding exactly what is requested and returning back to their base in what seems like record time. Sam has his nose in a book and offers a small wave when Dean returns. The wailing hasn’t stopped and Dean’s a little more than surprised that Cas hasn’t mojo’d the baby into silence. 

“Hey Cas,” he knocks, hoping the angel can hear him over the increasing wails, “I got your stuff.”

The door opens not a second later, the bag is quickly pulled from his hand and the door promptly slammed in his face. Green eyes blink, once then twice, before he’s huffing in frustration and stomping his way to the bathroom for a calming bath. 

It feels like an eternity before Dean leaves the comfort of the bath water, bathrobe wrapped securely around him as he makes his way down the hall. He hopes Cas being a little more welcoming and will let him in the bedroom for a new change of clothes. 

“Remember to let her into your heart,” Dean pauses as his brain catches up to the words of one of his favorite songs, “then you can start to make it better.” 

He knows it’s not Sam’s off-key voice singing this time. This voice, though gravelly, makes the song its own. Before he knows it, Dean is hurrying towards the voice. He stops short of his bedroom the second he sees Sam, leaning against the now open doorframe, a small smile on his younger brothers lips. 

“Sam?” Hazel eyes turn to face him, but Sam says nothing besides bringing a finger to his lips to shush him and motions him over. A million different things flash through Dean’s mind as to what he’ll see, but what he looks at it is one scenario he never expects. 

Castiel is lying on his side on Dean’s bed, trench coat neatly folded on the nearest desk. The baby is not even a breath away from his side, Cas’ hand comfortingly sprayed over the baby's stomach. The angel’s mouth moving in accord as the words drift seamlessly through the air. 

Dean’s heart clenches, memories of his mom doing the same exact thing to him when he was young. When Sam gently nudges him with his shoulder, Dean denies the very possiblity that he may have some tears in his eyes. Entering the room and ignoring the look of disbelief on Sam’s face, Dean steps closer to the bed. 

Castiel looks up after he finishes the song, meeting Dean’s questioning gaze with a soft smile. 

“Cas, you know this is a little creepy, right?” Dean states, coming to sit gently behind the angel. 

“It is not,” Castiel sighs, leaning back against the firm body. 

“Uh-huh,” he exchanges a look with Sam, but his baby brother only shakes his head and leaves to two alone to talk. “So who's the baby?” 

Another sigh and Cas is reaching out again for the baby, his hand gently running over the little tufts of hair on top of the little boy’s head. 

“Samandriel”

The name surprises Dean, last he’d seen the poor angel was dead by the very angel in front of him. So Dean waits, expecting a little more or some other type of explanation. He isn’t all that surprised when there is none. Instead, Castiel simply leans back against him and shifts to make himself more comfortable. His hand never leaves the baby. The other hand though, it finds its way to Dean’s and laces their fingers together. The hunter finds his eyes closing of their own accord just as the angel opens his mouth once more.

“Hey Jude, don’t make a it bad. Take a sad song and make it better...”


End file.
